


Storm or Fire

by bellamythology (onemanbellarmy)



Series: in another lifetime, in some forgotten dream [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, F/M, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller (if you read with a magnifying glass), Reunions, some Brollexa too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/bellamythology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed.</p><p>Her grin widened as she ran the last few steps to him. Bellamy barely noticed that there was still a crowd of Romans around them, because Clarke was here in front of him and throwing herself at him, and he stumbled back a step but managed to catch her, just as he always did, and —</p><p>And she was kissing him, and he let himself breathe like he hadn’t since she’d disappeared. Because this was Clarke, and he’d missed her so freaking much.</p><p>(or: the Bellarke version of the Percabeth reunion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm or Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Because, per [Audrey](http://romanempirc.tumblr.com), there aren't enough PJO/The 100 crossovers. Fic aesthetics can be found [here](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com/post/146291074370/). Also, I have plans to expand this 'verse, if anyone's interested ;)
> 
> Title from the Prophecy of Seven.

“You do realize that pacing the deck won’t get you down there any faster, right?”

Startled, Bellamy turned his head to make eye contact with his friend, smiling ruefully even as his grip tightened briefly on the railing and his free hand instinctively drifted to his pocket. “I know that, or at least my brain does. But I just — she’s — it’s been _months._ And now I’m about to see her again, and I’m not sure how much she remembers, let alone if she even remembers _me_ , and I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t, but —”

 “ _Hey._ ” Harper laid a gentle hand over his on the railing, lacing her tone with calming charmspeak. “ _Everything’s going to be fine._ ”

Bellamy believed her for a second, not that he had much of a choice.

“We’re here,” Wells called from the bow. Nervously he tugged at his Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, as if worried the Romans wouldn’t respect him now that he was no longer wholly one of them.

“Breathe,” Harper ordered both of them — sans magic, thank the gods — as she and the others made final preparations for landing, leaving Bellamy to quietly freak out on his own.

 

As it turned out, they didn’t get to land, thanks to that stupid Terminus guy. While Bellamy would’ve been more than happy to hack him into pieces and move on, Raven managed to talk them both down.

“I’ll stay with the ship, in the air,” she offered, wry smile suggesting that it was hardly a hardship for her to keep an eye on her beloved projects. “That way you won’t be bringing weapons inside the Pomerian Line — except for Bellamy’s stupidity, but I’m sure the Romans won’t mind that.”

“Cute.” He caught her arm as she turned to go, suddenly serious. “You sure about this?”

“Wouldn’t want to derail your personal quest.” She relented when his grip tightened just a fraction. “Really, Bellamy, I’ve got Jasper; I’ll be fine.” She waved a hand toward their satyr chaperone, who held up a tin of gunpowder and winked. “Go get your girl.”

 

The first thing Bellamy noticed upon entering New Rome was the welcoming committee: an authoritative trio standing together near the entrance to the forum, watching and waiting for them to approach.

There was a bald guy in robes straight out of a Renaissance fair or something, three teddy bears hanging from his sash for some reason; a brunette in armor, with dark eye makeup and an even darker scowl; and, wearing a purple T-shirt and jean shorts and the same smile he’d dreamed about every night they’d been apart, was —

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed.

Her grin widened as she ran the last few steps to him, the brunette’s frown deepening as she broke formation. But Bellamy barely noticed, because Clarke was here in front of him and throwing herself at him, and he stumbled back a step but managed to catch her, just as he always did, and —

And she was kissing him, and the hamster in his brain stepped sedately out of its wheel. His thoughts stopped racing, and he let himself breathe and relax like he hadn’t since she’d disappeared. Because this was _Clarke_ , and he’d missed her so freaking much.

Then she stepped back and ran her fingers down his arm, pausing just a second to tap the vein in the muscle she’d made no secret of her admiration for, and he was still smiling when she judo-flipped him over her shoulder.

“That’s for taking so long, you moron.” A breath later, as she held out a hand to pull him back to his feet: “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

 

The brunette’s name was Lexa, and she was Praetor of the Roman version of Camp Half-Blood. (Except, that wasn’t quite accurate, Bellamy realized now, because Camp Half-Blood was more like a summer camp, whereas Camp Jupiter was more like a military unit.) When she said she wanted to talk, ignoring the augur Titus’s protests, her gold and silver dogs followed, and Bellamy knew it wasn’t just a polite request.

Initially they were both wary, until they found unexpected common ground.

“Clarke seemed really interested in the city. You know, the college and all …” Lexa gave a vague hand wave.

“All the buildings,” Bellamy offered, a careful smile playing at his lips. “She wants to be an architect, you know.”

“Does she? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Daughter of Minerva — well, Athena, rather. You’re aware of the distinction?”

“No, I guess I’ve never thought about it.” He beat his pride into submission long enough to say, tone just this side of eager, “Tell me more.”

They left that meeting with a new understanding. Not necessarily friends, but enough to know that there was definitely hope for peace between their camps.

 

Nothing eventful happened during the rest of their visit, for which Clarke was profoundly grateful. It felt like two worlds colliding, which it kind of was — and at the same time wasn’t, _technically_ it was two parts of the same world finally coming back together — and it discomfited her enough without anything else going wrong.

“This is Nathan and Monty,” she said as they climbed aboard. “Nathan’s a son of Ares — Mars — and Monty’s a son of Hades, or, well, Pluto — kind of a long story.”

“This must be Bellamy.” Nathan smirked, and Monty elbowed him in the ribs.

Bellamy was still grinning like an idiot, which was more than okay because Clarke was sure that she was, too. “That’s me. And this is Wells, Harper, and Raven’s manning the wheel — son of Jupiter, daughter of Aphrodite, daughter of Hephaestus. Oh, and that’s Jasper. In theory, he’s our adult supervision for this trip.”

As they left Camp Jupiter behind, Clarke traced her favorite constellation among the freckles on the face that had been the first memory returned to her.

They were alone now, the others having set off to the mess hall, and it was finally quiet. Not that they didn’t love their friends, of course, but they’d all be spending quite a bit of time together for the next few weeks, and there were some things you just couldn’t do or say in front of others.

For the moment, though, they were content to lean into each other’s warmth, fingers intertwined as if they would never again let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to [me](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
